


not much (but it's a start)

by zari_writes



Series: i didn't know i was lonely (i wanna get better) [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 'gettin' together' fic, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Slow Burn, chowds is super observant and smart bUT NOBODY SUSPECTS A THING, lardo and shitty being weirdly parental and perfect, swawesome santa 2014, this started out really short and then got long as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:16:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zari_writes/pseuds/zari_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fix <em>this</em>,” Bitty points in between himself and his captain with one hand. “Whatever 'this' is.” Jack takes his glasses off and scrubs a hand over his face.<br/>“And how would we do that exactly?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. i (we) wanna get better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie/gifts).



> This is a story in parts because I am trash. Happy Holidays, Sophie (notunwise)! Hope you enjoy my literal first endeavor on ao3. (Also, thank you to Ngozi for making such a wonderful comic. :) )  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You guys really need to work on this.” The voice startles Bitty, who jumps almost five feet in the air and then turns, red-faced, to Chowder, who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen looking more nervous than a turkey on Thanksgiving.

"Coach-- _Dad_...I’m gay.” The words come out stunted and stilted. There’s nothing all too panicky about them but there is a certain anxiety but more from the fact that this is Bitty’s dad, okay, and coming out is terrifying shit. Before his father can say anything, Bitty manages a “kaythanksloveyoubye” and promptly hangs up the phone.

The entire conversation had been filled with awkward pauses and misplaced silences. Nervous laughter and smalltalk. Not that they had hated each other but...Bitty sighs. _It was more like a conversation between complete strangers than father and son_ , he thinks to himself as he falls backwards onto his bed and just lays there. He can’t move or think so he just lays. Not like there’s anything else he can do other than ignore the constant buzzing of his phone.

Later on, Shitty and Lardo manage into his room without having Bitty freak out and screaming at them. Bitty lets himself be hugged for a couple of hours while watching old Disney movies. They don’t talk about anything to do with coming out or parents or summer or checking or hockey or anything in between.

When Bitty cries during the ending of  _A Goofy Movie_ , Lardo and Shitty pretend not to notice. (But both wrap an arm around the small blond as his shoulders shake in just the slightest of motions.) 

**_/-\\_**

 

When Bittle comes back from summer vacation, there’s some kind of disconnect between him and the rink.

Jack can’t put his finger on it but it frustrates him. Every time he even _mentions_ the rink, Bitty gets excited then he gets...wary. Like he can already feel the ghosting pressure of another body barreling into his. A light dims in his eyes and his smile stops reaching his eyes. But he keeps up appearances; he must be afraid of what will happen if he tells anyone how he feels. How it feels like the world would end if he let anyone know how afraid he was.

Jack knows the feeling very well.

He considers talking to Bittle about it one day. Just pulling him to the side and hugging him and telling him it’s okay and that people won’t mind and that Bitty should _just stop holding it back_ _it’ll fucking kill you_. But...he doesn't.

 

**\--**

 

It’s a well known fact that the first one up on any given day in the Haus is Jack Zimmerman who is so obviously not a morning person and doesn’t even like going outside in the afternoon let alone the asscrack of dawn but early morning is the only time that the rink is both open and empty. So whenever he has the chance, he’ll get up early and alone (because, let’s face it -- more often than naught, he’s having to help Bittle) and go skating until he has to go to breakfast. For Jack, early morning twilight and rising sun mean peace and quiet. Somewhere to unwind and let go of extra stress that somehow keeps building up in his chest before he even has to go to class.

Only today, Jack’s not alone.

Zimmerman squints out at the ice, trying to make out the lone figure when they performs some kind of jump-twist-thing that could make physics professors cry. There is only one person on the team that can do that and it’s a certain Eric Bittle.

Eric Bittle who bitches and moans when he has to get up without warning at the asscrack of dawn and go through checking practice. Eric Bittle who faints whenever he is so much as brushed on the shoulder when on the ice. Eric Bittle who tries not to get onto the ice before breakfast because “it’s unhealthy to go _anywhere_ without a meal first, Jack Zimmerman, didn’t your mama teach you that?”. Eric Bittle who didn’t so much as skate in small, concentric circles his first time on the ice with Jack after being checked.

Eric Bittle who looks so goddamned magnificent when he does that twist-jumpy thing.

When Jack makes it down towards the rink doors, he realizes that Bittle keeps smiling whenever he lands one of those jumps. Bitty’s smile seems to add to the peaceful atmosphere of the rink.

Bitty spots Jack as the blonde skates around the rink once more and he waves. When Jack catches up to Bitty, the blonde greets Jack with all the excitement and energy that would be expected of someone with twelve hours of sleep and some coffee to boot. Except that there are bags under Bitty’s eyes and Jack feels something similar to concern well up in his chest. When he asks (totally out of captain-like concerns and interests), Bitty just grimaces, his nose scrunching up ( _really cutely_ ) and tells Jack: “Don’t worry ‘bout it Captain. Besides, I’m up before you so that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

Jack smiles at Bitty who whoops and says something about how he should’ve tweeted that and Jack grimaces. This inspires Bitty to reach into his pocket. Out of reflex, Jack speeds up to reach out and grab the phone when Bitty, trying to get away, somehow trips himself up and starts to fall backwards. In a blur of motion, Jack is moving and before he knows it, he's holding Bitty up.

There’s silence for a couple of moments in that sleepy morning. Their faces are inches apart and they are both breathing hard but not from effort; just from...suspense. (Or whatever Bitty and Holster are always talking about in those shows they watch.) Jack’s not really sure what’s going to happen when he seems something flash in the corner of his eye. The captain straightens and releases Bitty so he can regain his balance to look around the rink.

Nothing.

Jack asks Bittle if he’s okay when he turns around to see a very red-faced Bitty. Huh, must be colder than he thought.

“Yeah, just peachy,” Bitty replies somewhat shortly and tries to look over Jack’s shoulder. “What were you looking for?” Jack considers possibly telling Bitty _oh nothing, I just thought there was some paparazzi here but it’s probably just paranoia and hey, your cheeks are really cute when they-_ Stop. Breathe. Think.

Jack tells Bitty that it was nothing as they resume skating. When he suggests they practice checking, Bitty turns whiter than the ice and swallows, his throat bobbing with an excuse.

Jack doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the morning.

 

**\--**

When Shitty brings him the magazine later, the headline is not something Jack expects. It reads “ **RISING HOCKEY STAR FOUND WITH NEW, MYSTERIOUS LOVER** ” and Jack’s heart doesn't speed up; it just kind of stops beating. Then Shitty’s yelling and telling him to breathe and he’s counting in his head, down from ten then back up until he can breathe again.

_7...6...5…_

Shitty shoves him in the shoulder and jokes about him and Bitty being more than just friends and Jack feels his cheeks flush. He just shakes his head.

_1...2...3…_

His best friend simply shakes his shoulder and laughs, saying something about a little bit of a crush and it’s not like Jack can blame him. Bitty’s got this kind of gravitational pull with his dumb new hair cut, his baking, his early morning jam sessions of Beyonce Carey or Mariah Knowles, his bright and warm eyes, beautiful smiles, his general essence-- Stop.

_5...4...3…_

“Shits, stop it. I’m not _gay_.”

_10...9...8…_

It comes out louder than he wants. It also comes out colder than he wants. Shitty’s expression hardens and his gaze is deadset on something over Jack’s shoulder towards the kitchen’s opening. Jack turns around and tries not to widen his eyes at the sight of a very angry, very upset, Bittle.

“Oh I’m...sorry. I think I’ll just...leave.” Bitty’s gone before Jack can say anything else and then Shitty’s gone, muttering something about “talking to Bitty, dammit Jack”.

And then...he’s alone.

Ah, _shit._

 **~  
** **\www/**

 

This, Bitty has decided, is going to be the worst year of his college career. He’s sitting next to the pond thinking that if he hadn’t walked into the Haus at that one moment, none of this would be a problem. No--if he weren’t _gay_ this wouldn’t be a problem.

“Bitty?” Bitty turns around to see Shitty there, looking worried and upset and Bitty gives Shitty a small, weak smile. “You okay?” Bitty swallows and decides that lying is definitely _not_ an option especially since he’s _crying oh wait when did that start_?

“No. Not really,” Bitty manages to say without his voice wobbling before Shitty is seating himself next to Bitty and wrapping an arm around the blond’s shoulder.

“D’you think if I wasn’t--”

“Eric Richard Bittle, don’t fucking finish that sentence.” Shitty’s voice isn’t harsh, perse, but it’s definitely got an undertone of frigidness. “Don’t you fucking dare.” Bitty swallows down a retort and just sits there in silence and let’s Shitty’s words wash over him.

“Listen, Bits, that shit Jack was saying...he didn’t mean it. He was confused and worried. Granted, he expressed it in a really fucked up way but I swear that he didn’t mean it,” Shitty tries to reason. Bitty just sits there and takes it in, staring out at the pond. “That doesn’t fucking mean that he’s excused or some bullshit like that; he still owes you an apology.” Bitty sniffs but doesn’t say anything at all. Just continues staring out at the pond. Shitty takes a seat next to Bitty and sits there for a couple of silent moments and Bitty is thankful for that; his head is pounding and he really doesn’t want to start crying again.

“Shitty…” Bitty begins but his words catch in his throat and it almost hurts to speak because his throat seems to close up.

“Bits?” Shitty sounds worried and Bitty brings his knees to his chest and buries his face his arms as they wrap around the top of his knees. After a couple more minutes of silence, Bitty takes a deep breath.

And starts to talk.

**~**

 

“This is a stupid idea, Shitty,” Bitty grumbles as he follows the senior towards the students’ resource building. Shitty looks over his shoulder and give Bitty a wry but worried smile.

“Listen, Bits, I’m not forcing you to do this so If you want to, we can go back if you want to,” Shitty tells his teammate. Bitty chews on his lip and then shakes his head. He doesn’t trust his mouth to say anything for fear of the words ‘I don’t think I can do this’ might come out. And it’s not like he doesn’t need help it’s just the idea of actually admitting that _terrifies_ Bitty. The whole idea had been Lardo’s in the first place anyhow.

Shitty had suggested that they ask Lardo for some help seeing as Shitty, albeit a good friend and better listener, was not really certified with these sort of issues and their other source of anxiety know-how was...not an option, Lardo was their best bet. Not that Lardo was an expert but she helped around with student resources for the women’s crisis and LGBTQIA+ center sometimes so she knew her way around the people there. When they had asked her, Bitty nervous, Shitty just...himself, Lardo hadn’t said a single judgmental word and just wrote down a list of people they might want to check out.

“I hope that whoever is going through a rough time knows that it’s okay to talk to someone from time to time,” Lardo had said as they had left her dorm room. BItty restrained himself from hugging her but told himself that the next time they went to go get froyo, it was on him no matter how many crazy combinations or toppings she would manage to fit into the serving cup.

“Um...yeah, hi. We’re here to see--gimme a sec,” Shitty stalls in their introduction once they make it to the information desk inside the building to fish for the list of people Lardo had given them. “Yeah, we’re here to see...Bronestone? Brownstone? Brahstun?

“Dr. Braunstun. Down the hall, take a left at the weird looking sculpture that makes you think of alien testicles and keep going till you reach the door with the Elvish on it. If you’ve reached an announcements board with Maya Angelou poems, you’ve gone too far,” the girl...boy... _person_ at the desk says with a smile, the piercing in their lip seeming to protrude a bit more. As the two hockey players leave, the desk person gives a gentler smile and a small wave to Bitty who gives a shy smile back.

When they reach the oddly vibrant and extremely thought provoking (by which Bitty means, Shitty said something along the lines of “She was right; it looks like alien dick”), they take the left and nearly get lost because the Elvish on the door was quite literally on the door. There was no paper sign or wooden plaque. Just black paint calligraphy on the university’s door.

Shitty and Bitty look at each other and Shitty gives the blond a smile that’s meant to be brave but is kind of a bit wobbly. Bitty swallows down a lump of nerves and knocks on the door. Within seconds, the door is swung open by a woman with frizzy, graying-brown hair with wire-rimmed glasses and a calm smile.

“You must be Eric. Larissa called ahead to let me know that I might be getting someone in,” Dr. Braunstun says, ushering the blond in and then gently pushing Shitty back out the door from where he had followed Bitty inside. “Only one at a time, hon. But I promise I’ll return him, limbs and all.” Shitty shoots Bitty a look of motherly concern which Bitty matches with a look of somewhat wavering confidence. Dr. Braunstun shuts the door and motions for Bitty to sit down in one of the three chairs in her office. As she putters around her desk, Bitty takes in the office space’s decor.

It’s not exactly big but it’s big enough to put three to five people in it with them standing or moving around. There’s only one window and that’s covered by a set of paisley curtains. The chairs in front of the desk are all different, one red with gold patterns and quite plush, one black leather with cracking covers, and one green and boxy with evident signs of care and use. Out of instinct, Bitty gravitates to the green chair and sits down, reminded of the ugly sofa at the Haus.

“So dear,” Dr. Braunstun begins, settling down into the red chair with gold patterns in it instead of the office chair on the other side of the desk and somehow, there are two steaming mugs of tea within reach, “do you wanna tell me what seems to be the matter?” Bitty grabs his tea mug and takes a sip. Green tea with just a hint of honey.

“I-” Bitty stops short, unsure of how to proceed with this-this _thing_. It’s not like he doesn’t talk about his problems but...This feels different. And it’s terrifying, if Bitty’s to be honest.

“Unsure of where to start?” Dr. Braunstun asks, mouth obscured by the bright orange rim of her tea mug and Bitty simply nods and takes another sip of his tea.

“It’s all-” Bitty motions with one hand around in something of a semblance to a circle, “jumbled up.”

“Well then,” the woman says, curling her knees to her chest and looking at Bitty with clear blue eyes, “if ever in doubt, start at the beginning. The _very_ beginning.” _Beginning_. The word kind of echoes in his head like it’s a word he’s never heard before. Eric Bittle takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

And begins at the beginning.

 

**_/-\\_**

 

Bitty is avoiding him.

Not that Jack can blame him but even in practice, Bittle doesn’t even try to meet his eye. In their shared class, Bitty always tries to place at _least_ two people in between him and the hockey team captain. Jack tries texting him, confronting him privately, or even passing him notes but...somehow Bitty doesn’t pay attention to any of them. _On the bright side_ , Jack thinks, _Bittle is looking better_. And it’s true.

A day or two after the Fight (which is what Chowder and everyone else on the team have started to refer to It as) Bitty starts sleeping. The dark bags don’t disappear instantly but Bittle looks a lot better than that morning of the skate. He doesn’t exactly shy away from people hitting him on the shoulder but he tries to avoid it as much as possible. The kitchen constantly smells like brown sugar and buttery crusts but Jack doesn’t dare go into it for fear of getting _the Look_ from Bitty.

Finally, Shitty has had enough of--as he puts it--“Mommy and Daddy fighting. Seriously, you guys have to stop this because the kids (read: the frogs) are being affected.” Jack’s quiet for a bit, not really sure what to say when Shitty starts talking again.

“Technically, it’s more your fault than his but it’s not like he’s demanding an apology from you. And to be honest, I think he should be,” Shitty states bluntly and Jack worries his bottom lip, unsure of what to say. “I’m going to take your silence and guess that it means you know exactly how you fucked up and how fucking spectacular it was.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Jack says honestly and Shitty sighs, sitting down on Jack’s bed.

“Well, I think the best thing would be for you to actually try. And I don’t mean cornering him, Jack. I mean talking to him like a friend. As a fucking equal, ya know?” Shitty gives Jack the every apprehensive  _pay attention Zimmerman or I will lay in your bed naked so help me God_ look.

“And how exactly am I supposed to try when all Bitty does is avoid me?” Jack asks, frustrated now more than ever with Shitty’s nonchalance of suggestion. Jack’s frustration has been manifesting itself more and more nowadays. Letting it seep into everything from practice to study to class and finally, into his sleep. Oh sleep. He hadn't slept well in days even though he had stopped taking the sleep meds months ago but now he's having trouble closing his eyes without seeing the look of desperation and disappointment on Bittle's face so sleep is really _not_ an option.  

“You also need to stop avoiding him.” The words cut like a knife and the room is completely silent. Jack is just glaring at Shitty who is looking back, gaze even and unphased. “You keep trying to corner him and keep trying to talk to him like a Captain,” Shitty states and Jack frowns. _What the hell does that mean?_ “Don’t look at me like that ZImmerman, you know what I mean.”

Jack stares, not blankly, but the gears are turning ever so slowly before Shitty sighs exhaustedly, like he’s dealing with a child which, in hindsight, was not far from the truth.

“You shouldn’t trying to approach him as the captain of a team,” Shitty explains and the gears stop all movement and a light bulb goes on over Jack’s head.

“I should approach him like an equal,” Jack says, and it sounds more like a question but Shitty throws his hands in the air.

“Amen, Hallelujah the boy fuckin’ gets it, thank God,” Shitty exclaims. “Or really weed. Or Lardo. They’re both awesome. And both tangible.”

“Shitty…?” Shitty blinks back to his best friend and then gives Jack the most intense stare someone who had been talking about weed and Lardo can. And that goes to say that it’s a pretty intense stare.

“You have to talk to him like you mean it and it’s not you reprimanding him for a bad play on the ice,” Shitty starts, flopping back onto Jack’s bed. “You have to talk to him like a friend.” Jack thinks for a moment, very quiet, before flopping next to Shitty, arms overlapping with his best friend’s.

“We’re not friends.” The words are curt and the short kind of sad. Like he can’t think too much lest that little bit of sad turns into a big kind of sad.

“Then you’d better fucking fix that shit, ya dumbass.” Shitty’s advice is succinct and strict.

And very, _very_ accurate.

 **~  
** **\www/**

When Jack finally corners Bitty, Bitty isn’t even the least amount of surprised. Dr. Braunstun explained that if Shitty were really good at convincing people to do things like this, then “that boy will definitely try to apologize”. Bitty prompted her for advice on how to take the potential, hypothetical apology, she simply smirked at him over the rim over her garishly orange tea mug (jasmine that day) and had said, “when it does happen - because it will, Eric, do not give me that look - think it over and give it time; what he said hurt you and you need to think for yourself in matters like this”.

So Bitty squares his jaw, straightens his back, and imagines that he is skating onto the ice for the Southern Junior Regionals instead of facing his team captain. (And for some reason, this is ten times more terrifying.)

“Bittle I wanted to…” Jack stops and runs a hand through his hair. “I _want_ to apologize. For what I said the other day.” Bitty runs it over in his head and just shrugs. _Play it off casually. Do not make a big deal out of it._

“Okay. Cool. Now can I go or…?” Bitty starts to walk away before Jack holds up his hands.

“No, I just…” Jack sighs and then seems to collect himself in mere seconds. “I just wanted to apologize for everything.” Bitty stares at him for several seconds before he is able to comprehend what his captain, Sir I-Won’t-Apologize-Because-I’m-Actually-Five himself, has said.

“And what is this ‘everythin’’?” Bitty asks, using finger-quotes because if this shit is goin’ down, he is going to be as sassy as he likes, thank-you-very-much. Jack waves his hands around as if to encase this ‘everything’.

“The way I’ve treated you. The way I have I have been treating you. The things I said that day about the magazine. The way I’m really tough on you. About the concussion.” The words tumble through the air and Bitty is not exactly happy to say this but in all honesty, he’s _stunned_. Not exactly joyful but definitely surprised in a somewhat good way.

“O-kay,” Bitty says, searching Jack’s face for any sense of...denial? Anger? Stubborness? But there isn’t any. It’s all open and vulnerable and _apologetic_. “What brought all this on?” Jack rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

“I’ve been thinking of it since I said that... _stuff_.” Bitty quirks an eyebrow at Jack whose face is now a lovely shade of red. “But Shitty told me about all the other _stuff_ that I’ve been doing. To you. And I never meant it. Most of it.” Jack winces at the sharp memory of the words “ _it was a lucky shot_ ” bang like the echo of a gunshot through his skull. “Sorry.” Bitty is quiet for a bit and then blurts out the question he’s been dying to ask.

“Why’d it take you so long?” The question tumbles out before Bitty can think about what he says and Jack flinches as if he’d been hit and Bitty only regrets it a bit. A small bit. A Bitty-sized bit. (Okay, so it was more than a bit but hey, Bitty’s human. Cut him some slack.)

“I didn’t want to muck it up as badly as I had before,” Jack explains and then, like an afterthought, adds, “sorry.” Bitty crinkles his nose and huffs.

“Stop that,” he reprimands and Jack looks like a sad puppy caught doing something wrong but doesn’t know what it’s done so it just looks sadder. (It’s adorable and heartbreaking at the same time.) “Stop apologizin’ for everything. It’s unnecessary.” Jack worries his lip.

“Sor--I mean I’m so--shit, I mean--sorry! Ugh.” Jack turns a bright red and looks at the wall next to Bitty’s head and Bitty laughs. Jack spares him one of those ‘I’m mildly entertained but I’m not gonna laugh cause that’s not how Zimmermans do’. They’re quiet before Bitty clears his throat.

“I’m going to think about your...apology, for a bit. Give me a day, I promise, and I’ll have an answer.” _Or somethin’ like it._ Jack looks a bit disappointed at the fact he isn’t getting an answer right away but it’s something.Bitty leaves and Jack breathes for a moment.

“Okay,” Jack mutters to himself. “Okay. Good enough.” And he walks off, a small air of content around him for the rest of the day. The frogs are terrified whilst Bitty assures them that no, _he isn’t plotting to kill y’all, not one bit--Chowder stop hyperventilating, it’s fine_. It just makes Jack feel a bit more content ‘cause Bitty looks happier and nicer and _cuter; his smile just seems to light up the room_ and Jack gets this tunnel vision whenever it happens.

God he’s _so_ screwed.

 

**_/-\\_**

 

Bitty gets back to him a day later at almost the exact same time, looking determined but refreshed. Jack swallows the lump of nervousness in his throat and follows Bitty up the stairs of the Haus and into his room. Jack takes a moment to look around as Bitty closes the door. The entirety of the room is neat and clean, unlike most of the rooms in the Haus, but it’s obviously lived in.

“So, Jack.” Jack’s attention is drawn towards the blond who doesn’t seem to feel a small amount of nervousness that Jack feels. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I should forgive you for everythin’ you’ve done-slash-said to me. But!…” Jack feels something sink from his chest to his stomach and tries not to think about how his heart feels as if it’s dropped altitude. “There are some conditions.” Jack straightens a bit as Bitty begins to tick the list off of his fingers.

“One: Stop avoidin’ me so much. Two: Stop scarin’ the Frogs. Three: Stop apologizin’ about the concussion. Four: The concussion was not your fault -- no ifs, ands, or buts. Five: We can start workin’ on checkin’. But _slowly_ ,” Bitty puts an emphasis on the slow and makes sure to keep Jack from saying anything about the checking incident. Jack inhales and exhales, counting in his head.

“Okay. Thank you.” The words are somewhat practiced but have their intended effect as Bitty’s eyes grow lighter and his shoulders relax. But there’s something bugging Jack. Something about the way Bitty had said all that...it sounded rehearsed. Almost like it had been edited and reviewed and then cut down to its’ barest bones. Kind of like how some therapists will have you peel back your problems, layer by layer, until the main problem presents itself.

“Are you talking to someone?” Jack blurts out and Bitty gives him a look of complete confusion before Jack is stuttering. “I meant to--That came out wrong I meant--ugh.” Jack drags a hand down his face and sighs. “I mean, is there something you been talking about with someone else?” Bitty looks completely befuddled for a couple of moments before the realization dawns on him and he looks _pissed_.

“I’m sorry but _who asked you_?” Bitty almost growls and Jack’s eyes widen as he holds up his hands in surrender.

“I mean--I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, it’s just--I did that. Talking to someone about...you know.” Jack rubs a hand against the back of his neck and looks away. Talking about _it_ was hard enough in rehab and then in therapy. They had told Jack he would have to learn to live with it and that this was _a part of you so just try to accept it, Mr. Zimmerman because you’re either stuck with it or you cope with it and those are two_  very _different_. When Jack looks back, Bitty’s eyes are wide and the anger vibrating through him just _vanishes_ and then he looks younger, and _terrified_.

“I--yeah. I’m seeing someone. Or just...talking to someone. At someone. She’s a professor at the student resource’s building,” Bitty tells Jack, somewhat resigned but also relieved to tell someone other than Shitty. Jack nods stiffly and looks away again, this time at the window.

“It..helped. A lot.” The two teammates are silent for a bit, just looking anywhere but at each other before Jack shuffles his feet and clears his throat.

“Well, I’ll be going now. I mean if that’s all we have to say.” Bitty nods, stiffly, and walks after Jack towards the door. Before he goes though, Jack turns to face Bitty with a small, sad smile on his face.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always across the hall.” And with that, the hockey captain leaves and Bitty is left, staring after him, somewhat confused with some kind of weight lifted off of his shoulders. Jack keeps on giving him small smiles (so the rest of the day is Bitty trying not to make awkward eye contact with Jack). Ransom and Holster seem to think that Jack and Bitty have been hooking up so they wink (which ensues to more “no more soulful glances across the room” due to Ransom and Holster’s whistling and hooting).

It’s really annoying. (Especially since Bitty wouldn’t exactly mind if it were true [the soulful glances part, _dammit_ ].)

 **~  
** **\www/**

“You guys really need to work on this.” The voice startles Bitty, who jumps almost five feet in the air and then turns, red-faced, to Chowder, who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen looking more nervous than a turkey on Thanksgiving. Bitty puts down the can of peaches and quirks an eyebrow at the frog.

“And what would ‘this’ be?” Bitty asks and Chowder swallows and squares his shoulders.

“You and Jack need to work on this whole, ‘not being into each other but we’re actually into each other so we’re just gonna look at each other awkwardly when we think no one is looking’ thing,” Chowder says in a rush and Bitty blinks twice before quirking his eyebrow again.

“And are you the _only_ one who thinks this?” Bitty asks and Chowder sighs, a small, albeit nervous smile etching itself onto Chowder’s face.

“That last bit was Nursey,” Chowder states sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.”But we think that you two need to work out whatever is between you two. Everyone is starting to notice and it makes everyone feel...awkward.”

“Awkward how?” Bitty asks, suspicious now, and Chowder bites his lip.

“Awkward as in we have no idea whether or not you two’re gonna go off at or screw each other. We just know that you two need to be alone at some point to talk things out or something,” Chowder states bluntly and Bitty feels his eyes widen.

“I’m sorry, wha--” Chowder holds up a hand and takes a deep breath.

“I have this all memorized and written down, so I have to say this really fast otherwise Dex and Nursey’ll yell at me about missing some important part about subtext or something like that,” Chowder declares. Bitty sighs but settles against the counter and prepares to listen to whatever Chowder has prepared.

“You and Jack have always had this weird ‘at common odds’ kind of vibe around you two and to be honest, it was tolerable. It took a  bit to get used to the dynamic, but it was fine. And then you two got into some kind of fight and everything felt like there was a disconnect. On the ice you two were fine but off of it...it felt like you two were trying avoid one another and it was just uncomfortable for the rest of us.

“You two balance each other out in some way that no one else can do. Sure Shitty is Jack’s best friend and all that but you two have this...chemistry. It just works. So when you two are so disjointed it’s just weird for the team because then there’s a disconnect between us and you two.

“Then you two talked. Or screwed. Or whatever. And we thought ‘hell yeah, all fixed and we can all go back to being a team’. But it wasn’t. You two were more distant than ever but in the way where you both know something but you aren’t willing to say it to one another even though you both know it so the air is just tension filled and _awkward_.” Chowder takes a breath and looks Bitty in the eye with that strange intensity that revealed a bit of “the motherfucker between the poles”.  

“I personally don’t care what’s going on right now between the two of you but...fix whatever it is. Or just...figure out a way to make it work so it won’t have us all _worried_.” Bitty looks at Chowder’s intense gaze and sighs.

“Fine. I’ll ‘fix’ whatever this ‘thing’ you are all convinced is but don’t expect some kind of miracle,” Bitty states as he pushes himself away from the counter, almost smiling at Chowder’s excited face and barely sustained victorious " _‘swawesome"_. As he makes his way towards the stairs, the blond breathes evenly and when he makes it to Jack’s door, he takes in a deep breath and knocks.

“Shitty, for the last time, I will _not_ commentate the History channel drunk--Oh, hey Bittle.” The greeting is stilted and halted as Bitty pushes his way in and stands with his arms crossed facing Jack once he turns around from shutting his room’s door.

“We need to talk,” Bitty manages to say without jittering with nerves. Jack quirks an eyebrow behind his glasses (which make him look really cute [ _shut it_ ]).

“About what?” Jack asks and Bitty sighs grumpily and nods at the door.

“Everyone has taken notice of our, ah, ‘thing’,” Bitty states, using finger quotes and emphasizing the word ‘thing’. Jack’s brow just furrows even more and Bitty exhales, exasperated. “Chowder basically just gave me a speech on how to get through relationship trouble. The team has _noticed_ that we aren’t ‘working things out’.” Again, with the air quotes but hey, they’re necessary in situations like this. Jack’s eyes widen with recognition and then they narrow again.

“Wait so they think that we’re in a…?” The ending is implied and Bitty throws his hand in the air.

“Exactly! But I didn’t say anythin’ because I didn’t want to start up a fuss with all of them,” Bitty explains and Jack bites his lip.

“What do we do?” Ah, and there’s the billion dollar question: What _do_ they do? While Bitty is all open to the idea of the team knowing about him, Jack is a different story. It’s kind of a matter of pride and a matter of privacy for him so telling everyone is out of the question. Lying about anything would just get them in deeper than they would like, so that’s out too. The only thing left is exactly what Chowder had asked them to do.

Fix this.

“I don’t know how,” Bitty mumbles under his breath. Jack looks at him oddly but doesn’t say anything.

“How do we avoid this whole fallout?” Jack asks and Bitty sighs, unsure of what to say. Jack walks over to sit at his desk and Bitty walks towards his bed and plops down on the floor next to it, his back to the bed.

“We can’t avoid it, really,” Bitty states and looks up to meet Jack’s eyes. “We could always take Chowder’s advice.”

“Which would be?”

“Fix _this_ ,” Bitty points in between himself and his captain with one hand. “Whatever 'this' is.” Jack takes his glasses off and scrubs a hand over his face.

“And how would we do that exactly?” Bitty shrugs, just as confused as Jack is when an idea hits him from nowhere courtesy of a certain ugly, orange mug. A mouth hidden by the lip of the obscene cup had once stated that “ _all relationships could be fixed if only the parties were to talk frequently_ ”.

“We talk.” Bitty declares suddenly and Jack looks at him, confused. “It’s something I heard. We can ‘fix’ this ‘thing’ with talking. I think. If we try.” He looks up to his captain with a tentative smile. “So what do you say, Captain?” The blond holds out a hand and the brunt moves closer in his chair, extending his hand.

“Okay.”

Well, it’s a start.

* * *

 

(Nobody talks about how the door had remained closed for the rest of the day. And night. Only to open when Bitty and Jack went downstairs for dinner. Holster and Ransom are confused while Chowder shoots Dex and Nursey a thumbs up right as Jack gives a small smile to something Bitty is saying.  [It’s gone in an instant but Shitty and Lardo swear on beer pong that it was there, official BitMan fan club member honor.])


	2. ii. interlude: shit talking up all night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s an odd kind of comfort.

It isn’t much. (But it’s a start.)

It’s not like they’re both “all better”. There’s no magic spell that will magically heal every break in a relationship--if one could call what Bitty and Jack had/have/will have a “relationship”. But they’re getting better.

They talk more. Jack tries not to yell as much and Bitty tries to work his way past the whole checking phobia-thing. Jack gives creative criticism and works with Bitty some mornings when they both have a hard time sleeping. Bitty bakes Jack pies and helps him cook for their history class. In the middle of night, when almost all of the Haus is asleep, either Bitty or Jack will sneak into the other’s room and they would just sit there in the dark on the bed or on the floor, side by side. Shoulders and arms touching, knees knocking, and fingers brushing.

There was something precious about those hours graced by moonlight and silence.

Sometimes, they would talk. It would usually start with Bitty but Jack would slowly work out his own whispered confessions, advice or jokes. The combination of Jack’s dry humor and Bitty’s trilling southern laugh somehow doesn’t wake the Haus but later (earlier?) both hockey players go to bed feeling a bit less lonely at night.

It’s an odd kind of comfort. But...

It's still comfort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the format of this series/monstrosity will be about one-two parts each story-thing. usually a main part with an interlude. sorry about this, again.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so sorry about having to upload this in pieces!! A short series of events that happened whilst writing this fic:  
>  **- >**brainstorm. begin writing.  
>  **- >**continues writing.  
>  **- >**continues writing.  
>  **- >**continues writing.  
>  **- >**...it turned into a monster. (read: 13.483 k + fic WIP)  
> so so sorry. i do think i'll have this monstrosity over with by next week. thank you for being patient and i hope you enjoyed! Happy holidays! :)  
> (also, those lameass things that kinda-sorta separate the POVs are pies and hockey sticks/pucks. i am so sorry. im so lame. i thought it was so cool at the time even though it's actually _super_ fucking weird.)


End file.
